


Seeking acedia

by mecchayabai



Category: Super Junior, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Age Difference, Alcohol, Angst, Dom/sub Undertones, Dominance, First Time, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Pining, Praise Kink, Topping from the Bottom, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-06-04 06:36:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6645385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mecchayabai/pseuds/mecchayabai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kim Heechul knows everything, even the things Jimin wants to keep hidden from the whole world. Himself included.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seeking acedia

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [projectcyphr](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/projectcyphr) collection. 



Jimin is nervous.

He always is when it comes to variety, no matter how much he has adjusted into performing ever since they debuted. Actually, stepping on the stage is something he has grown to love, even crave during their breaks. Not necessarily the hectic schedules of music programs or the long hours of stage rehearsals, but the sound of fanchants, bright lights and the safety of the choreography. That's what he needs.

With variety appearances, he doesn’t have a similar structure to follow; he has to move and react and, worst of all, talk. So it makes sense he’s nervous, has been all morning, feeling so queasy that he couldn’t stomach eating a single thing for breakfast. Even the water he gulped down like a dying man sits uneasy inside his belly.

The worst thing is, this is just Weekly Idol.

Yes, it’s on national television, and yes, all their fans will probably watch it over and over again. But at the same time the show is notoriously the place where rookie idols go to make fools of themselves, to appear a little less like pieces of plastic freshly out of the machine that the entertainment training system usually is. Jimin has already done it all there before; messed up while dancing, given piss poor excuses for his supposedly funny or witty answers and generally behaved like somebody who shouldn’t be let out of their cage without supervision.

It doesn’t make him feel better, instead it just adds to the pressure already turning his body into a stiff, jerky bundle of nervous muscles. No matter how many times Namjoon reassured him Defconn and Hyeongdon wouldn’t be so tough on them this time, not anymore since they have gotten their first place and become something other than rookies that need to be constantly challenged.

Around one week ago, when their manager off-handedly let them now that there would be a new host recording with them instead of Hyeongdon, Jimin had already been jumping the walls, and it hasn’t gotten much better during the week. Now, standing in the waiting room and counting seconds before the filming is scheduled to start, he’s ready to call the whole things quits.

It’s the first time he ever met Kim Heechul. Of course Jimin knows who he is, there’s probably not one person in the whole industry who doesn’t, but they have never exchanged a single word, not even a simple greeting. His hand trembled as they shook hands half an hour ago and Jimin made sure to bow his head deep, low enough that his hair covered his fair and the nervous smile stuck on it.

“So this is the Bangtan Boys!” Kim Heechul had said, eyes full of mischief and curiosity. “I’ll have you know I did my research on you boys. I think I’m already on the same level with your fans.”

They all laughed good-heartedly, the atmosphere in the waiting room immediately more comfortable. Taehyung launched into an enthusiastic tale about some Super Junior video or song, and Yoongi nodded along, quickly steering the conversation to the fact that he has already talked with Kim Heechul before through Zhou Mi and how much he knows about the guy. Doesn’t make it any easier for Jimin to try to find his center, any kind of peace, really, so he just fidgets on the couch and waits.

Right before entering the camera's field of vision, Heechul suddenly lays his palm on Jimin’s shoulder. It’s not that strange, they are all piled up in the stuffy, tiny backroom anyway, bumping shoulders, but Jimin’s jolts under the touch without even realizing it.

“No need to be nervous,” Heechul says, winking in a way that makes Jimin think he’s hiding something. Or that maybe he himself missed something, a joke hidden in Heechul's words that Jimin doesn’t understand.

“Thank you,” he answers politely, nodding his head, and is rewarded with a smirk tugging at the corners of Heechul’s lip gloss-shiny lips.

Jimin feels those lips on his cheeks half an hour later; this time he’s expecting the touch, knowing without a doubt that the so called punishment is about to land on his face any second. He squeezes his eyes shut, only half-forced smile splitting his face, but for all his preparation, he couldn’t have anticipated the words, whispered honey-sweet and soft like a caress, right into his ear.

“So cute.”

Then Heechul kisses Jimin’s cheek, lips leaving a sticky mark in their wake that seems to burn like a brand on Jimin’s skin. For a moment he’s paralyzed, not so much by the action because it’s all but mundane to somebody who lives with Hoseok and Taehyung, but because of those two words. Not knowing how he’s supposed to react, if those words where meant for the mikes to catch or just for Jimin’s ears, he lets his legs crumble until he’s squatting, face hidden in his hands.

He hears the laugher of his members everywhere around him, supporting and safe like a blanket. It lulls him back to some kind of calm; good enough to help him finish the filming without embarrassing himself (more than what was scripted, at least). When they finally bow their final thanks to the MCs, Jimin grabs Taehyung’s arm and follows him close by, almost stepping on his heels.

“Gather around! Come on, over here, let’s take a picture,” Heechul says, marching a laughing Yoongi over by the white walls. Seokjin and Namjoon follow, and Taehyung pulls Jimin along as well.

“Sunbaenim, you should be in the middle,” Namjoon says, and it makes Heechul snort and punch his back with a light, playful fist.

“I guess you two are taller than me anyway… But the youngsters need to be in front!”

The thing is, even though Taehyung sinks down to the floor, somehow Jimin cannot follow him. Heechul holds his forearm with firm fingers, keeping him up without even looking at him.

“You, J-Hope, you’re one of the kid members, right?” Heechul says, eyes full of teasing delight, and Hoseok bursts out laughing before obediently taking the spot on the floor next to Taehyung. Jimin can’t do much more than lay his hands on Hoseok’s shoulders as Heechul pulls him closer, insistent but so discreet nobody even raises an eyebrow. With Jungkook’s elbows digging in his back, Jimin leans forward until his cheek, the one still tingling with the kiss, brushes Heechul’s soft sweater.

“Smile!” Defconn says, his cellphone raised and eyes fixed to the screen behind his sunglasses. Jimin does, his head pressed against Heechul’s shoulder like he’s leaning in on purpose. He can’t even lift his hands, dependent on Hoseok to support him because his whole body is tense and shaking with the frantic beat of his heart.

After the picture, Jimin watches with awkward eyes how the rest of the members talk with both of the MCs, saying their final greetings one after another. He doesn’t mean for it to happen, but somehow he’s the last one in line, and after Defconn has disappeared to the backroom as well, it’s just the two of them. Him and Kim Heechul.

Heechul reaches out without a shred of hesitation, hands wrapping around Jimin’s shoulders. He laughs, a low and dark sound rumbling in his chest as they hug, and before Jimin can do anything, Heechul has pulled back and snapped a picture of Jimin’s slack-jawed face.

“Give me your kakaotalk ID. I’ll send this to you and you can add me back,” Heechul says, the beginning of a smile caressing his lips, and pushes his blonde hair back from his eyes. Jimin blinks, but of course he wouldn’t cross a person like Kim Heechul.

When Kim Heechul asks for your contact information, you give it to him. In fact, if Kim Heechul asks you for the key to your apartment and all the money in your wallet, you’ll give them to him. No questions asked.

Heechul watches with unblinking eyes as Jimin fumbles with his phone. His own Samsung is probably beeping in his pocket, on mute but its screen no doubt flashing with a new message, but he’s too nervous to take it out. Heechul smiles, then pats Jimin’s cheek. His thumb strokes the remnants of the kiss on Jimin’s skin, massaging the tingling fire deeper into his cells.

“You weren’t this quiet on all those videos,” Heechul notes, smirking as he pulls his hand away and lays it casually on his own hip. “I wanted to hear that laugh.”

“I did laugh,” Jimin insists before realizing what he’s saying. “You’re a great MC. I laughed a lot, I did.”

Heechul huffs. “Here he is, finally. For a while I thought you’d gone mute.”

Jimin feels a smile pulling at the corners of his lips and lets it. He shakes his head, hair flying everywhere, and Heechul clicks his tongue.

“Maybe it is better if you don't talk so much. You’re just too cute like this, aren’t you?”

“Um. I, uh, it’s all thanks to the coordis. They’re really great,” Jimin says. He wants to deny those words immediately, but Heechul’s eyes are dark and insistent so he just nods. His cheeks heat up a little, tongue sneaking out to sweep over his bottom lip, because the words are somehow double-edged, with one side being care-free and the other dripping with innuendo.

“Mmm, but I’ve seen you bare-faced and sleepy, probably naked under your blanket, and you still looked so damn cute,” Heechul says, ending the sentence with such a natural wink that Jimin can’t do anything but struggle to inhale.

“Anyway, we should stay in touch. You know, when the idol life gets too much and so on. I’ll take you out for dinner. Whatever you want, hyung is paying,” Heechul says, his tone so matter-of-fact and casually friendly that for a moment Jimin is sure he imagined the words before.

“Mmm. I just always know. I can spot it anytime, anywhere,” Heechul continues, that grin made of dark chocolate sneaking back into his words and smile. Jimin swallows, skin breaking out in goosebumps.

 

 

––

 

 

> _Hyung what did you mean when you said that you know?_

Jimin holds out until 1AM that same night, after they have had their celebration dinner with their manager and returned to the dorms. He lays on his stomach, phone propped against his pillow and a conversation with “Space Big Star Kim Heechul” open on the screen.

>    
>  _I’m gonna save you in my contact list as “Cherry Jimin"_  
>  _Cause you remind me of my cat_  
>  _You’re both so cute_  
>  _And your hair used to be red~_

It takes Jimin at least five minutes to start tapping an answer. It’s easier now that they are not standing face to face; there are no black eyes staring at Jimin, dissecting him and sorting the pieces of his mind like it’s a collection of rainbow colored candies. He can think about his answers, what Heechul would like to hear.

It’s also more difficult, because Jimin has no idea if Heechul is being serious. For all he knows, he’s sitting in a restaurant with his friends or other Super Junior members and laughing at him.

>   
>  _Hyuuung_  
>  _What did you mean?_
> 
>    
>  _What do I get for telling you?_  
>  _Send me a bedtime selfie and I’ll tell you_

For a second Jimin feels like he has been asked to send nudes or something and almost drops the phone from his bed. When he glances down, he spots Taehyung looking up at him with raised eyebrows from the lower bunk. Jimin grins sheepishly and burrows himself back under the blanket. He has a nagging feeling that somebody is looking over his shoulder, seeing every word, but knows of course that it's just his imagination. It's not like Taehyung can levitate or turn himself invisible or something.

After battling with himself for at least ten minutes, during which he tries sleeping, playing with his phone and reading webtoons to distract himself, Jimin caves. Despite the fact that he looks horrible, even the few pimples on his skin visible without the security of make up, and hair still half wet from shower. In the end, he bunches the pillow up so that it covers his face all the way up to his eyes and tries to tousle his hair so that it looks a little less like an orange bird’s nest.

Snapping a couple of shots, Jimin thanks the gods he can already hear Hoseok’s snoring. The last thing he wants is for somebody to see. Even though he could just lie and say he was taking selfies for their fans, it somehow feels like they could read the truth from his face. After the deed is done and he feels at least half-satisfied with the photos, Jimin clicks send before he can really start thinking about it. He feels silly already; he should have just made a weird face and edited the pic to hell and back.

Heechul answers almost immediately, and Jimin nearly has a heart attack when his phone screen is filled with another picture, one of Heechul sitting somewhere that’s quite clearly a corner table at some kind of a restaurant. Of course he’s not there alone eating a midnight dinner, of course there’s somebody with him, most likely multiple people, actually, and he must have showed the picture to all of them––

>   
>  _Gunhee is asking me if I finally got a girlfriend_  
>  _Since I’m sending somebody pictures in the middle of the night_

>   
>  _I’m sorry hyung, are you out?_  
>  _I thought you were going to bed too_  
>  _Sorry!!_

Jimin has no idea if Heechul actually meant to sound scolding, but his ears are already burning because of Heechul’s intense stare, nearly black eyes looking at Jimin from the picture and being so damn perceptive and like he’s taking notes of every expression crossing Jimin’s face. It feels like Heechul is really there, all of a sudden, in the bed with Jimin.

He swallows. He really is too tired for this, there’s no other explanation for how much he’s suddenly freaking out because of a simple picture. Simple, teasing yet good-natured words. Simple relationship between an experienced senior and a junior he just happens to like. Jimin does know, without a doubt, that he should just close his eyes and force himself to fall asleep, but he also really wants to know what Heechul meant with his earlier comment. It keeps circling in his head, Heechul’s voice echoing there as if he was whispering the words into Jimin’s ear.

>   
>  _Adorable, but don’t worry_  
>  _Gunhee won’t tell anyone_  
>  _Anyway I did promise you didn’t I_

>  
> 
> _You did hyung!_

>   
>  _ㅋㅋㅋ_  
>  _Nothing serious_  
>  _But it’s pretty obvious if you know what to look for_  
>  _That you won’t be sending any girl selfies either_

Lie. He has to lie, even if Heechul wasn’t hinting at what Jimin thinks he is. But he might be. The longer Jimin looks at the words, the more likely it seems. He forces himself to breathe, but his whole body is locking up. It’s just a joke, just a stupid little jab, the type Heechul is known for thanks to his sharp tongue.

> _What do you mean hyung?_

>   
>  _No need to act all innocent. I always know_  
>  _I’m Kim Heechul_

>   
>  _I really don’t know what you’re talking about_  
>  _hyung_

Jimin’s chest feels constricted, like his ribcage is becoming tighter and tighter around his lungs. He knows, or at least feels the first droplets of doubt hitting the stormy surface of his mind like rain drops falling on the sea. He glances down from his bed again, half expecting to see Jungkook materializing in the darkness, the ghost of him from Jimin’s mind turning into reality.

When he’s sure there is no one else in the room but Hoseok and Taehyung, he turns to look at the screen of his phone again. The harsh light is blinding, and for a moment Jimin just closes his eyes. He hopes that the words disappear, for the characters to chance shape, but when he opens his eyes again, everything is almost the same; the only difference are the two new sentences at the bottom of the screen.

> _Seriously, you don’t have to lie to me_  
>  _You’re not the only one in the industry, trust me_
> 
> _What do you mean “not the only one”?_

Jimin writes his answer mechanically. Really, it’s the only think he _could_ write in that moment. Admitting the truth is out of the question, but at the same time Jimin knows he doesn't have the courage to deny Heechul’s words, either.

And somewhere at the back of his mind, Jimin feels a pull towards those words on the screen. Acceptance? Maybe, but at least the kind of honesty Jimin can’t even remember seeing. Still, he knows just as well that he can’t be bold right now, because this all could backfire.

 _Not the only one_. Jimin’s heart is beating faster, like it wants to break free through skin and bone. It’s because of those words that he can lay down again, his phone screen shining its soft light on his face, and fall asleep before Heechul answers.

 

 

––

 

Heechul invites him out for dinner.

Jimin stares at the message, the straightforward words like a joke at first. But even after five minutes of excruciating waiting, staring at the clock at the corner of the screen and trying to appear casual at the same time, there is no additional emoticon or an explanation, and Jimin has no other chance but to accept that Heechul is being serious.

The TV commercials rolling right in front of his eyes blur until he can only see colors and hear single words, distant and separate like they are floating in the air. Hoseok sleeps next to him on the sofa, his face hidden behind one arm, but it’s the only alive thing in the room beside Jimin himself. Taehyung has probably fallen asleep in the shower, Namjoon and Yoongi locked behind the door to their studio. Jungkook, who knows, maybe playing a game in their bedroom. It would explain why Hoseok was sleeping there and not in his own bed.

There’s absolutely nobody who Jimin could ask, but also nobody to tell him no. He looks down at his lap, his faded gray sweatpants and the hem of his t-shirt pooling on his thighs. He’s not wearing rings, not even his piercings, and his face is just as bare as in the picture he sent Heechul a couple of nights ago.

Is he really considering it? Yes. It might be nearly 10PM, it might be the stupidest thing he has ever considered, but somehow he wants to grab his hoodie and walk out of the door, bike to the subway station and go wherever Heechul wants him to go.

So he asks. Heechul answers in less than thirty seconds, asking where their dormitory is located and already promising he could be there in fifteen minutes. Jimin glances towards Hoseok like he’s afraid he might have woken up by the silent words on the phone screen, and gets up from the couch.

The last time Jimin did this wasn’t that unfortunate night when he sneaked out with Taehyung to go to the PC room and got caught by their manager. After that, their whole group has perfected a technique for it, a well-practiced strategy that works almost every time and has led to all of them sitting in the closest convenience store eating noodles, but also in Yoongi, Namjoon, Seokjin and Hoseok coming home drunk out of their eyeballs on a couple of memorable occasions. Therefore, the last time Jimin took his wallet and phone, stuffed them in the pockets of his jacket, pulled over a hoodie just like now, was with Taehyung and Jungkook some months ago.

That time they ate fish cakes in the closest food stall to their dormitory, but right now Jimin stands outside by the street and waits for a car to pick him up and take him somewhere, anywhere around Seoul.

A taxi pulls up ten minutes later, during which he both talks himself into getting back inside and staying for multiple times. It’s a never ending debate, but when the voice trying to tell him his warm bed is waiting, that he’s breaking the rules, starts sounding like Jungkook, Jimin stops listening. The car door is pushed open and Jimin climbs inside, where Heechul is sitting in the dark.

“Well, that crosses out anything fancier than a chicken place,” Heechul says in lieu of a greeting. Jimin flushes, scrambling to see what Heechul is wearing, but it’s too dark inside the car for some reason. So he just concentrates on Heechul’s face, occasionally streaked with red and orange light, and the smile he sees curling in the corners of his mouth.

“Sorry,” Jimin replies, rubbing his palms over his thighs and feeling the soft cotton of his pants. “I already showered, I wasn’t really expecting–– anything. Like this.”

“I was kidding,” Heechul says, his smile widening just as a splash of light blue, pink and white hits him in the face. “How do you feel about meat?”

Jimin looks at Heechul’s face, keeps blinking and wondering if he’s still missing something important. If Heechul didn’t mean to invite him for dinner at all, but this was a test of some sort or joke he was supposed to understand, but he didn’t, he failed. He nods anyway and feels a wave of warmth somewhere behind his bellybutton when Heechul nods as well and keeps smiling.

When they step inside the restaurant, middle-sized and so full of people Jimin wonders for a moment if somebody will recognize them and say something, maybe try to take a picture. Heechul walks forward without a second of hesitation, and Jimin follows him, clumsy between the chairs and bumping into people and their tables. He’s happy to slip down once they reach an empty corner seat, left vacant so perfectly just for them that Jimin wonders whether Heechul pulled some strings to get it for them.

Jimin pulls the hood of his hoodie over his head, too conscious of the way his hair must be sticking to every possible direction and the hot air no doubt turns his cheeks red. Heechul orders, not sparing Jimin half a glance until they have two glasses and a bottle of beer between them on the table, and the waiter has turned the gas grill on.

“I hope I did my research right and you’re not actually underage,” Heechul says as he cracks the bottle open. Jimin laughs, the nervous sound escaping his mouth before he can stop it.

“Yeah,” he says, eyes glued to the beer, which Heechul is now pouring into the glasses. “I turned twenty last year.”

Heechul laughs, the snickering sound he made during the shooting as well and Jimin remembers crystal clear, when Heechul found something really funny. “I’m over ten years older than you, you know? I know I don’t look it, but still,” he says, eyes boring into Jimin’s. “So you’re dining in a pretty fancy company. A huge senior like me.”

“I know, hyung,” Jimin says, and the word rolls off of his tongue with ease. “It’s really nice you took me here.”

Heechul snickers again and pops a piece of still pink, juicy beef into his mouth. His fingers look long and elegant against the shiny metal of the chopsticks, and Jimin fights against the desire to stare. He attacks the small plate of kimchi instead, sticks a sour bite into his mouth and chews on the cabbage until his whole mouth is filled with the taste.

“You’re not very talkative, are you?” Heechul says, sipping his beer, and looks at Jimin with his head tilted, a somehow knowing smile on his lips. When Jimin just nods, because there isn’t really that much you could answer to something like that, Heechul laughs again.

“Obedient, too,” he says, looking like a cat whiskers deep in a bowl of cream. “I guess that makes you more like a dog, doesn’t it, and not a cat? Cats are assholes, everybody knows that. Independent, stubborn little assholes, not obedient at all. At least my cats, but then again they might have learned that from their owner, don’t you think?”

Jimin swallows. If he nods, he would be calling Heechul a selfish bastard. If he shakes his head… Jimin doesn’t even know what he would be disagreeing with, so it’s much safer to just eat more kimchi, because he still doesn’t dare to touch the meat.

“It’s not a trick question,” Heechul says. He’s reading Jimin like a book, turning the pages lazily and at no one’s pace but his own. When he makes an expectant gesture with his hand, Jimin clears his throat and finally picks up a piece of beef from the grill. It’s savory, so good even if it’s not medium anymore having stood there on the grill for a moment too long, and almost melts on his tongue. Jimin flushes, still chasing the lingering taste with his tongue even though his mouth is empty, because Heechul already promised to pay and this beef has to be expensive as hell.

“I don’t really know much about pets, hyung,” Jimin says in the end, incredibly lame even in his own ears. He sounds like he’s answering a question on a radio show or music program interview; like a robot without any brain at all, just repeating what’s been inputted in its system. It makes him flush, the warmth from the table grill only making it worse. “But I–– I try to listen to my hyungs. When I can, and since you’re a senior, too…”

Heechul nods, seemingly satisfied with Jimin’s answer. He gathers a bunch of seasoned bean sprouts between his chopsticks, but at the same time he’s eyes linger on Jimin’s face, his body. His lips. Jimin swallows and drinks, because his stomach feels tight and full of something wriggly and nervous that will hopefully drown under the beer.

He nearly spits out every drop when something brushes against the inside of his calf.

Jimin lays his chopsticks down, nearly dropping them in the process, and then glances under the table. It’s not what he’s expecting, a monster hiding between the table legs or a stray cat rubbing against his sweatpants, but instead one of Heechul’s shining leather shoes.

Heechul touches Jimin again. Leather slides up along his shin, tracing a lazy path all the way up from his ankle until the tip reaches the back of his knee. Jimin can’t help it, he shivers despite the intense heat from the grill and stares down at his lap with his mouth open. It doesn’t take long for him to lift his gaze and stare at Heechul’s face instead.

Heechul chuckles, and Jimin can’t help the small sound he makes. He just expected something more, some kind of _words_ , because Heechul is all but rubbing his toes against Jimin’s crotch––

And he does it. Slides his shoe along Jimin’s thigh, even nudges his legs a little bit further apart while doing it. Jimin jolts, his face flooded with red and panic already settling in his bones. He can’t help feeling like he’s the butt of a joke he never heard, but everybody around him is still laughing, loud and pearly white teeth showing.

“I was very serious, you know. I think you're cute, Jimin. Handsome,” Heechul says, another piece of meat disappearing into his mouth. He chews like it’s the best thing he has ever eaten, but at the same time the tip of his shoe drags against Jimin’s inner thigh. And yet Jimin’s hands are on the table, the right one still clutching his chopsticks, even though he could push Heechul’s leg away in seconds. He should, they are out in the open, anybody could see. Take a picture, take a video.

“Hyung, can you–– Somebody could see,” Jimin says, not even waiting for Heechul to finish his sentence even though it was obvious he was going to. Heechul cocks his eyebrows, but lets out a small, somehow satisfied huff of laughter.

“Ha, finally a reaction,” he says. His foot still doesn’t move away, in fact it’s advancing to the exact opposite direction. “But don’t worry, I’m not here to out anyone against their will. Just thought you needed some relaxation.”

“Hyung, you really– um– there’s nothing to, you know, out. I’m not, so, um,” Jimin says, rambling and avoiding Heechul’s eyes the best he can. But he has to say as much as he can, because Heechul is clearly thinking about something – believing something – that’s not true in the slightest. Jimin is not... whatever it is that Heechul keeps hinting at. He’s not.

“It’s okay,” Heechul says and winks to him, honest to god winks like the male lead of a drama. Jimin’s cheeks grow hot. “You’re with friends now.”

Jimin swallows down the words _but I have friends_ , his mind circling around the pictures of his members. Pictures of Jungkook. They grow blurry under the heavy heat and smoke from the grill and the constant chatter of clueless people around them. Somehow Heechul’s dark eyes boring into his own, even the lines of his body and the way his fingers stroke the surface of the table, make Jimin wonder about the definition of ‘friends’ in Heechul’s vocabulary.

And for some reason, even if Jimin still feels like he should be arguing, probably jumping up and storming away from the restaurant, he doesn’t. He sits there, wondering why he somehow almost wants to stay. That dangerous thrill, making his heart beat faster. The feel of Heechul's foot pulling away, his own skin tingling with the loss.

When Heechul doesn’t say anything, just takes another bite of meat, already crispy because it’s been on the grill too long and Jimin didn’t realize to push it to the side, Jimin clears his throat. Fidgets on his seat and fights the feeling that Heechul is somehow reading his mind.

“So, um––”

“No need to be so nervous,” Heechul says, laughing and placing three slices of pork onto Jimin’s plate with nimble, quick fingers. “I’m just saying I like you. I’m taking you under my wing. Being a good senior. Don’t you want that, too?”

“Uh,” Jimin says, or more like makes a nose because his tongue feels swollen and fumbling. “Of course, hyung, but, um, why?”

Jimin brushes his cheek, the spot here Heechul kissed him before, and once again has to swallow down words not meant to be said out loud. No matter how much he’d like to say them, because it’s what he’s been wondering ever since the recording of Weekly Idol. What he wondered even when Heechul was caressing the inside of his thigh and making his brain short-circuit.

_I’m nothing special, just me, just Jimin, so why would he– why would Heechul–_

Heechul hums and drinks from his beer, taking his time. When he lays down the glass again and runs his tongue over his bottom lip, there’s a smile flirting on his lips. “I guess I just have a thing for dancers.”

 

 

––

 

Jimin almost doesn't go to the first party. It’s not that they have any important schedules set for the week, just that Jimin can’t really decide whether he wants to go or not until the very last minute. He shouldn’t, of course he shouldn’t, but he’s so curious it’s like there’s a constant itch under his skin.

He hasn’t made up his mind by the time Heechul sends him a message that he’s sitting in a taxi outside their dorms, haven’t reached any kind of inner peace or certainty and then it’s already too late. Jimin almost wishes somebody would stop him as he walks to the door, but everybody is immersed in something else. He hasn’t even seen Jungkook all day.

Heechul smiles widely when Jimin slips into the back seat and fastens his seatbelt.

“Glad to see you didn’t wear the hoodie this time,” Heechul says, his eyes dancing over Jimin’s body even in the dim light inside the cab. It’s dark already, just like last time, and Jimin is pretty glad Heechul can’t see his face or body properly. Not that he could know either way what Jimin is wearing under his jacket, but Jimin guesses Heechul is just completely confident that Jimin is actually wearing the sleeveless top he told him to.

Palms suddenly sweaty, Jimin wipes his hands on his light blue jeans, ripped and shredded to show way too much skin considering the cold January night air, and tries to calm his breathing.

“So where are we going?” Jimin asks after a moment, during which Heechul is busy tapping his phone with an almost absentminded smile on his face. His skin looks pale in the flickering lights from the streets, contrasting sharply with the almost blood-like red of his shirt, peeking from under his leather jacket.

“It’s a nice place. And don’t be nervous, there’s going to be a lot of familiar faces,” Heechul answers, something cryptic in his eyes, but there’s not enough light to try and decipher the hidden messages there. So Jimin just nods, his nerves fluttering and stomach almost aching with the feeling. Like he's jumping over an edge without any knowledge of what's waiting for him at the bottom.

“Friends?” Jimin asks. The way he says the word is something he picked up from Heechul and has realized only a couple of days ago. There’s a light emphasis there, so subtle it’s hard to notice and even harder to understand. Jimin is actually not sure he does, himself, just that he instinctively knows when to apply that light pressure on the word and when not.

“Friends, definitely,” Heechul says, grinning.

Jimin has never been to a club before, but he’s pretty sure they aren’t supposed to look like this one. There’s no line of people waiting, no bouncer and no thumping of music; just an empty, black wall and a heavy door so inconspicuous that Jimin nearly walks right past it. Heechul grabs the handle and pulls him inside, to somewhere that’s like a small and incredibly dark vestibule, where Jimin faces the three biggest guys he has ever seen in his life.

Feeling tiny like a bug, Jimin fumbles with his passport and tries to act natural under the scrutiny. The men offer him something slightly related to a smile when Heechul tells them he’s from a group called Bangtan Boys, but it doesn’t really make him feel any better. Instead, those small smiles seem insulting, sarcastic. At least they don’t start making fun of his ridiculous passport photo or his age.

When they finally step through yet another door and walk down at least two storeys worth of stairs, Jimin is suddenly faced with a huge, cave-like room full of people, blinding lights and thundering waves of music. The bass feels earth-shattering, ringing in his ears and inside his head, in his heart. It’s almost like he’s standing on the stage except there are so many people, not just the six familiar faces he’s used to seeing.

He doesn’t have any more time to look around and try to understand the maze-like layout of the place because Heechul grabs his hand and drags him across the room until they are jammed inside a small stall in the bathroom. The edge of the toilet is digging into Jimin’s calves and his brain is still trying to catch up with all the faces he thought he has recognized so far, but the most distracting thing is Heechul’s fingers. He’s holding Jimin’s chin, angling his face towards the ceiling and the dirty yellow light cascading down on them.

Heechul draws thick lines of black around his eyes, smudging them with his thumb until he’s got a satisfied, cat-like grin on his lips. Jimin feels like he’s been holding his breath during the whole time; they are sharing the same air, so close with Heechul leaning down over him as he inspects Jimin’s face.

“Yeah, better,” he says and pushes the tiny eyeliner back to whatever pocket he pulled it from. “Got to look the part, don’t you?”

Jimin is not unfamiliar with make up, of course he’s not. He usually likes how their stylists make him look, sexy and confident, but that has always been for a performance. Now he feels a little lightheaded, about to step out of the bathroom when it feels like he’s wearing a mask.

Heechul made him leave his jacket to the lockers and his arms are bare. It’s not a new feeling either, but somehow the way Heechul runs his thumbs over his biceps, how his eyes skate over Jimin’s chest, it makes Jimin feel… attractive.

“How come you’re not wearing any, hyung?” Jimin asks, a lot braver than he’s entirely comfortable with. But Heechul’s grin doesn’t falter, he just pulls out a tiny pot of Vaseline and spreads it over Jimin’s mouth.

“Do like this,” Heechul says, smacking his lips, and Jimin follows suit even if he’s face is burning up with the feeling of the tip of Heechul’s index finger rubbing against his bottom lip. “Trust me, usually I would be all dolled up, but tonight is about you. It’s your solo stage.”

“My solo stage?” Jimin asks. His stomach is fluttering and he feels like a kid being pushed around when Heechul guides him out of the bathroom stall.

“That’s what I said, didn’t I?” Heechul nods, all the while looking into the mirror and brushing his hair out of his eyes. Jimin steals a glance at his own reflection; he looks both exactly the same as he has many times before, usually before a performance, but there is also something different, something almost dangerous. Dark.

“Yeah, but what does that mean?” Jimin asks, half-yelling as Heechul walks him back to the public area and then to the bar. It’s busy, people crowding around the counter, but Heechul shoves his way through the masses like it’s nothing, pulling Jimin along with him. He pushes a laminated piece of paper into Jimin’s hands.

“Pick three,” Heechul says and then he’s leaning over the counter to give a half-hug to one of the bartenders. Jimin follows their discussion for a second, but can’t hear a word over all the booming noise filling the club. Then he focuses on the paper in his hands, but all he sees is a bunch of words in English.

Jimin hasn’t made it through half the list before Heechul turns back to him. “So, what are you getting?”

At Jimin’s bewildered face, Heechul laughs and then points at one of the items. “Take this.” He looks expectant, waiting for Jimin to stumble through the order himself even though Jimin’s English sucks and he’s already flushing with the idea of opening his mouth.

“Uh, one… Readheaded slut,” he says, eyes glued to the menu and avoiding the bartender. It’s bad enough that Jimin has to yell the order for him to hear it, but his stomach flips at that last word. He’s not one hundred percent sure, but he’s not an idiot either. Then Heechul’s palm lands on the small of Jimin’s back, his fingers petting the fabric of Jimin’s tank in surprisingly soothing, reassuring circles.

“Good. Then this one, because you need at least one of these every time you go out.” Heechul points at another word, and this time it’s easier, thankfully. Jimin orders one shot of tequila obediently, this time daring to sneak a glance at the bartender while doing it.

“And then one of these,” Heechul says, his voice like a purr in Jimin’s ear.

“One… Blow- Blowjob,” Jimin stammers, completely unfamiliar with the word. Heechul huffs next to him, a small laugh that makes Jimin’s stomach flip. “What does that mean? It’s English, right?” He dares to ask, even though that same feeling of something naughty, something dirty is still filling his insides.

“Oh, it’s an important word. But don't go around saying it to people, not today, anyway. Maybe next time,” Heechul says, that same almost mysterious smile on his lips. The bartender slides three small glasses in front of Jimin, each of them filled with a different color liquid. One of them even has what looks like whipped cream on the top.

“Which one do you–”

“Nope,” Heechul says, grinning, as he passes his card to the bartender. “All yours. I’m not drinking anything at all today, just so that I can take care of you look like a good senior. And by the way, tonight is alcohol-only for you, so don’t go around getting any ideas.”

“Alcohol only– wait, what is this?” Jimin takes a sip from the shot glass with clear liquid and nearly drops it a second later. It tastes horrible, absolutely disgusting. Much worse than soju or beer, and Jimin isn’t particularly used to the taste of those, either. Heechul just laughs.

“Just down them already, come on. Like you’d drink soju, okay?” He nods towards the glasses, eyes intense and not letting Jimin go for a minute, so Jimin takes a deep breath and empties the whole glass. The two more after that don’t go down any easier, leaving him heaving and his eyes watering, and Heechul pushes a glass of water to his mouth.

“Drink up,” he says and Jimin swallows obediently. Water has never tasted better and God, is he already feeling light headed? Could the alcohol affect him that quickly? He doesn’t know what he just drank, but he trusts Heechul enough not to be afraid. Actually, it might be anticipation churning his insides, instead, but Jimin doesn't want to look at it too closely.

“Now go dancing,” Heechul says, giving him a gentle push towards the dance floor. It’s already filled with so many people, bodies moving to the beat almost too perfectly. Like they are all trained dancers, professionals.

“What?” Jimin stares at him, even more dumbfounded than he has been feeling all evening. “Alone?”

“Yeah,” Heechul says, nodding. “I’m going to watch you. Find a good spot, somewhere in the center. There’s a small stage too, you see those people dancing close to the DJ? Get on that stage and dance a little. Relax.”

Jimin swallows, glancing towards the people. Before he can protest or agree, even before he can really think about Heechul’s words, Heechul leans forward and––

Jimin blinks. Heechul is pressing his lips on Jimin mouth, moving softly, his tongue pushing for an entry and gaining it. Heechul holds him close, almost as if he’s forcing Jimin to stay calm and right there where Heechul wants him. And he just keeps kissing, keeps moving his tongue until it’s in Jimin’s mouth.

There’s a hand on his waist, another on the back of his neck. Jimin’s whole body is trembling and he feels so light-headed, like all he can focus is those soft, soft lips against his own and the drowning wave of thrill, of dirty, bad, wrong but oh so good.

“Go dance,” Heechul murmurs against Jimin’s mouth before leaning back. His hands fall away, and Jimin’s skin aches for the touch. “I’ll watch you.”

 

 

––

 

Hoseok lets him sleep in the next morning, a weird, knowing smile on his lips when Jimin finally makes his way to their living room and all but crashes down on one of the pillows on the floor.

“Where’s everybody?” Jimin asks, voice thick. His mouth tastes disgusting and his head hurts, no matter that Heechul made sure he drank water every single time he beckoned for Jimin to return to the bar.

“Jungkook and Taehyung went out. Yoongi is actually still sleeping, but then again I think he went to bed even later than you. Don’t know about Namjoon, and Seokjin is in the supermarket with Manager-hyung.” Hoseok is stuffing his face with snacks – the shrimp ones Jimin usually really likes but right now even the idea makes him nearly retch – and watching TV. He looks at Jimin with a weird glimmer in his eyes, but doesn’t say anything.

Jimin rubs his eyes, hoping that he actually managed to get all the make-up off when he finally made it home last night, or early this morning. Heechul took care of everything else, even the taxi, but even he couldn’t have walked Jimin into their dorms and washed his face for him.

After scooping some rice from the rice cooker and topping the plate with kimchi and a few spoonfuls from the other boxes of side dishes Seokjin has stored in their fridge, Jimin sits down next to Hoseok. His legs are wobbly like overdone spaghetti and he nearly loses his balance, which of course attracts Hoseok’s attention.

“So where did you go last night? With Heechul-hyung, right?”

“Uh,” Jimin says and quickly stuffs some rice into his mouth. It gives him much needed seconds to think, even though Hoseok’s arched eyebrow is quite clear a sign that he caught up on it immediately. “Just some restaurant. They had really nice side dishes.”

“Did they go well with soju?” Hoseok asks, all casual and his eyes all but glued to the TV, but Jimin is not completely blind, either. Plus, Hoseok did happen to stumble to the bathroom when Jimin nearly fell through the door, so he got to experience Jimin’s alcohol smelling breath, total lack of balance and puffy lips and messed up hair first hand.

“It was okay,” Jimin mumbles, giving Hoseok something like a glare when he glances towards him. Hoseok's lips quirk, but doesn’t say anything more.

Jimin tries to focus on his bowl full of rice, but there’s a spiky, achy ball of pain behind his forehead and his stomach keeps flipping with every bite. He wishes the others were there, even if Hoseok is usually the one he gets along the best after Taehyung. But it would be nicer to have a bigger crowd, somebody to keep the attention away from him. Seokjin to mother over him, bring him water and maybe even make some hangover soup. Taehyung to cheer him up, even Yoongi to laugh at him. And Jungkook–

> _You feeling okay?_

Jimin wipes the screen of his phone with his thumb. Seeing Heechul’s message makes his stomach do another flip, but he’s less sure as to why. He fills his mouth with the last bits of rice from his plate and starts writing an answer.

> _Yeah a little tired but okay!_  
>  _Thanks for taking care of me yesterday hyung_

Hoseok is eyeballing him like he expects Jimin to read the text out loud, but Jimin just smiles his best smile, or the part of it he’s capable right now, and lays the phone on the table, screen down. It buzzes after a couple of minutes.

> _Anything for my cutest dongsaeng_  
>  _You coming again on Thursday?_  
>  _I think you left a few fans on the dance floor_

Jimin can’t help chuckling, even if embarrassment colors his cheeks pink. His memories of the later hours are fuzzy at best, but he does remember, vaguely but nonetheless, standing on that little platform where Heechul ordered him and dancing. Dancing for hours, people around him smiling at him, praising him. Eating him with their eyes, as Heechul put it when he had called Jimin back to the bar and made him order another Blowjob. _Men_ looking at him like they'd want nothing more but to take off his clothes, to––

Jimin knows how much he liked those looks, even if he doesn’t really want to admit it to himself. It’s enough to make him hesitate, eyes scanning over the words Heechul sent him.

Jimin is just about to tap out an answer, something non-binding and tentative, when he hears Taehyung’s bright, loud laughter from the door. He and Jungkook walk into the kitchen, in the middle of a conversation and looking almost painfully energetic.

“And then he did– seriously, did you see how–-”

“-–Bad it was, god, I don’t think I’ve laughed so hard in my life–-”

“Did you bring my coke?” Hoseok asks, grinning and already reaching his hand out expectantly. Jungkook fishes out two cans from his backpack and hands them over, offering a sloppy salute as he follows Taehyung to the kitchen.

Jimin follows them with his eyes, feeling weirdly conscious of his tired eyes and the hot and cold feeling in his limbs. Listening to their chatter and Hoseok loudly slurping his soda, he feels empty – like he was expecting their company to somehow fill the space inside him but nothing happened.

Jungkook walks past him, brisk and certain and indifferent, and Jimin feels his body angling itself towards the door through which he disappears. He looks down at his legs, crossed in front of him and covered in the worn-out cotton of his sweatpants, feels the instinct there in his muscles already telling him to get up and follow Jungkook.

Jimin swallows and thinks about sitting down next to Jungkook, on the floor of the bedroom he shares with Hoseok and Taehyung where Jungkook no doubt went to play games or watch TV. Thinks about how he could start a conversation, whether Jungkook would ask why he looks like he got run over by a truck (and still has eyeliner smudged around his eyes, which Jimin finds out later). Jimin closes his eyes, breathing through his nose.

Hoseok gives him another cursory glance when Taehyung walks past them in Jungkook’s footsteps, and Jimin grabs his phone again. He sees three new balloons at the bottom of the chat window.

> _They loved you_  
>  _So you better come again, otherwise I’ll get yelled at_  
>  _I’m not a tease_
> 
> _Of course hyung!_  
>  _I had a lot of funㅎㅎㅎ_  
>  _Thanks for taking me!_

 

 

––

 

Jimin loses his virginity that Thursday.

He doesn’t know if Heechul meant for it to happen, if that’s why he invited Jimin there to the same club again. He doesn’t even really know why he let it happen, expect that he’d been drunk on shots again ( _blowjobs_ ) and the looks and smiles and wordless praise.

He does know that he doesn’t regret it at all. That thinking about the images in his head, weirdly sharp and overly saturated even though the rest of the memories are softly hazed by alcohol, doesn’t make him feel sick or dirty. Doesn’t know if they should and maybe feels slightly guilty because of that, but it’s not like Jimin could tell anyone.

Heechul’s fingers wrap around Jimin’s wrist, pulling him away from somebody dancing against him and who Jimin knows but doesn’t dare to look in the eyes. They’ll be meeting in a broadcasting station somewhere, later, he knows that much, the thought weighting in his stomach like a piece of rock. Even if he doesn’t really want to go, not yet when he feels so full of energy, Jimin follows Heechul obediently. All the way outside the club, where it’s ridiculously cold and dark and the only faint noise around them comes from cars passing by.

“Why’re we leaving, hyung?” Jimin asks. His skin feels hot and too tight, like he still hasn’t gotten the release he came to the club for. Or maybe it’s not that, because he came there for Heechul.

Heechul turns to look at him just as a taxi pulls down next to them, expectant. Outside, under the light of a street light, Heechul looks much more drunk than inside the club, where everybody has that lazy, content smile on their lips and the beat of music guiding their uncontrollable bodies. Right now, Heechul sways a little on his feet, running his fingers over the glass of the taxi window, but his eyes are just as intense as always.

“Hyung?”

“C’mere, Jimin,” Heechul says and gestures with his hand, the movement uncoordinated and sloppy but still somehow beautiful. Jimin takes the few steps forward Heechul wants him to, until Heechul can lay his palm on Jimin’s cheek and rub the skin under his right eye with the pad of his thumb.

“You’re so cute,” Heechul murmurs, leaning in closer, but not really kissing Jimin. His lips move against Jimin’s mouth, but then Jimin realizes he’s speaking, with his eyes closed and forehead pressed against Jimin’s. “So cute, like a little puppy…”

Jimin swallows, feels like he should be pulling back or at least checking whether the taxi driver is calling the police. But instead he leans into Heechul’s touch. It feels familiar for some reason, like a reflex, even though they have met only a handful of times. Jimin doesn’t know if this is another fault of his, getting attached easily, without any real bond.

Doesn’t change the fact that he gets into the taxi with Heechul and then stumbles out when they stop in front of a small love hotel. Not that he notices much, with his hand in Heechul’s, and Heechul’s fingers rubbing the skin of his wrist.

His brain starts protesting a little when Heechul pushes him through a door, to a room, pushes him until his legs hit the edge of a bed and he falls onto it. But mostly just because this is Heechul and Jimin is _not_ what Heechul thinks he is, even if they have kissed. In public, with all their _friends_ around them. Jimin is not that, he's not even what Heechul keeps telling him. He doesn't know what he is, doesn't want to know.

And at the same time, it’s all that he has wanted to do, for years. Be just that. Look into the invisible mirror Heechul keeps shoving at his face and finally recognize himself.

Heechul kisses him as he crawls on top of Jimin, his fingers much more certain and determined than they seemed before. They pull away the top Jimin is wearing, the same Heechul told him to wear the first time they went to the club, and pet his chest. His fingernails dig into the skin around Jimin’s nipples, make him gasp because nobody has ever touched him like that, with such a mixture of harsh and gentle. Heechul’s gaze grazing over his bare stomach burns harder than the thousands of people who have seen him on national TV, so much more intimate. Like a drug.

“If I could decide, you’d be shirtless every fucking time, every fucking stage,” Heechul says, the only warning Jimin gets before Heechul’s lips land on his navel, make him jump on the bed.

“Hyung,” Jimin says, flushing with the realization that he’s panting, his voice trembling and body pulled taut on the bed spread. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, no experience to guide them. He needs Heechul to tell him what to do, just like he has done all night, just like always.

“I wanted to show you what _blowjob_ means, but now,” Heechul says, laughing in a manner much too soft for the predatory look in his eyes. “I want you to fuck me. With that body of yours, with your gorgeous cock, okay? You want that? Want to fuck me?”

Heechul touches the waistband of Jimin’s jeans, works the button open and lowers the zipper before Jimin can do much more than gasp. He’s not sure what he expected, but it wasn’t this. He thought Heechul would spread him out, because he’s older, he knows what he’s doing, he's the one leading them. Suddenly Jimin is frightened with the prospect of having to take control and get up on top of Heechul and he starts shaking his head.

“Hyung––”

“I’ll talk you through it, okay?” Heechul whispers into his ear, pressing a soft, gentle kiss to Jimin’s jaw. “I’ll help you. Don’t be nervous, you’re going to be so good, so good at everything, aren’t you?”

With those words, Jimin feels a sudden wave of calmness. He lets himself lean into Heechul’s touch, lets his kisses ease away the fear. He nods, relief bubbling inside his lungs, and opens his mouth for Heechul's tongue. Bares his neck for Heechul's teeth.

Heechul grabs Jimin’s hands and guides them to the buttons of his shirt. Jimin takes a deep breath and follows the wordless instructions. Heechul’s smile helps him flip them around on the bed and start kicking off his own pants. Heechul’s hands are there the whole time, guiding him softly but growing frantic with every new inch of bare skin. Somehow Jimin notices the same thing happening to him as well, a strange urgency rising inside him, together with want.

Heechul tells him to get the lube from the vanity on the other side of the room and then shows Jimin how to open him up. Their fingers bump into each other, and Jimin keeps glancing towards Heechul’s face, looking for that reassuring eye contact that tells him he’s doing okay. He can’t help blushing when he sees how Heechul’s mouth falls open and his eyes flutter closed.

Heechul looks beautiful. It doesn't matter that he's in a dirty motel room with Jimin, in the middle of the night after getting hammered in some nameless secret club, Heechul still looks beautiful.

When Jimin finally pushes inside, Heechul’s legs wrapped around his hips and pulling him closer, he thinks he’s going to come immediately. He has never felt anything like that, so good it makes his thighs shake and fingers wrap around Heechul’s hips tighter than he means to.

“Good,” Heechul pants, moaning when Jimin moves his hips. Every sound makes Jimin feel a little more confident, gives him a little more strength, but it’s nothing compared to how good Heechul’s words feel. It's like he’s stroking Jimin’s heart, gripping it in his fingers and holding it safe.

“Good boy.”

 

 

––

 

Jimin opens his eyes three hours later.

He gets up from the bed, fighting the suffocating feeling of his throat constricting. He doesn’t know where he is, but it’s not their dorm; the bed is huge, covered with dark wine red silk sheets and plush blankets, and the room around him is tiny. There are no bunk beds, no Hoseok’s face or Taehyung’s dirty socks on the floor, just the ugliest dark green wallpaper Jimin has ever seen.

There is just Heechul, sitting on the edge of the bed. His shoulders are slumped and head bowed, his fingers working furiously on a cellphone.

“Uh––” Jimin doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t even know where to begin, but he feels like he should make a sound. Just to alert Heechul of his presence, though he doubts Heechul ever lets himself get distracted enough to lose track of his surroundings. He’s always in control, always knows.

_I’m Kim Heechul. I always know._

Jimin shakes his head. He’s trembling on the bed, suddenly feeling sick in his stomach, because he just… he…

“Are you okay?” It’s Heechul. He’s facing Jimin now, his face and eyes just as tired as Jimin feels, but he’s smiling a small, crooked smile and reaches out a hand to pet Jimin’s calf. He’s also naked, just as naked as Jimin is.

Not really trusting his voice, not when he feels like he’s going to throw up any minute and only half because of all the shots he drank yesterday, Jimin just nods, mute. Heechul cocks one eyebrow but doesn’t say anything. He keeps stroking Jimin’s bare skin, and somehow the touch feels both sickening and calming at the same time.

“You should get back to your dorms, it’s pretty late,” Heechul says, his voice almost hollow as he turns to stare at his phone. The screen of it stays dark, and Jimin notices how Heechul’s grip tightens, how his jaw flexes. “Go home.”

It feels wrong, but so does staying in the bed, so Jimin gets up. It almost feels like half of his brain wants to lean towards Heechul, lay his head on his lap and hug him, make that distant look in his eyes disappear. The other half is urging Jimin to leave, however, yelling at him to get the fuck out and forget everything that happened last night. Jimin pulls his clothes on quickly, the silence growing heavier and heavier, and he’s glad Heechul doesn’t see how he stumbles and fights with the zipper and then pulls his socks on backwards. He can’t find his jacket, but walking to the closest street corner to get a taxi wearing just a sleeveless top is the least of Jimin’s worries.

“Bye, Jimin,” Heechul says after Jimin has spent a couple of minutes standing by the bed, awkward and horribly nervous and ready to keel over because his insides are twisting and turning and he feels like he's going to faint. “I’ll call you later, okay? I hope you won’t get in too much trouble for this. Let me know, I can call your manager, too.”

Jimin nods, rushed. And still, his legs don’t want to move. They want to collapse so that he can lie on the bed again, with Heechul. “Thanks, hyung.”

When he steps out of the room, the sound of the door closing behind him loud and final, Jimin can’t get Heechul’s expression from his mind; tired eyes, smile only partly for Jimin and partly for something else. Somebody else, probably, from some other time. Jimin knows there is history there, a lot of water under the bridge even though the details are most likely very different from those posted online.

Sunlight hits him in the face like a slap, and Jimin shivers in the cold morning air. He’s going to get the scolding of a lifetime, possible get them all in trouble like that one time with Taehyung. As he wanders towards the busier streets to find a taxi, he can’t make himself care all that much.

It feels insignificant compared to… compared to everything that took place in that little hotel room, where Heechul is still sitting. Probably staring at his cellphone, maybe even feeling the guilt Jimin can’t make himself feel.

He arrives to their dorms forty minutes later, just as disheveled and tired and even more at loss with his thoughts. Jimin just wants to shut down his brain for a couple of hours, but he knows he’ll probably have to face his members first. He hasn’t got the faintest idea how to explain what happened.

Of course, the first person he meets is Jungkook.

Jimin comes face to face with him right in front of their bedroom door. Jungkook looks surprised, eyes wide and darting from Jimin’s messed up hair to his bare arms, then back to his face. Jimin wonders what Jungkook sees there, if he has good enough eyes that he somehow notices the red marks as well, littered around Jimin’s body. To his surprise, Jimin doesn’t really feel embarrassed either, even if he does know he has to hide those marks as long as he can. A small part of him wants to take pride in them.

A smile appears on Jimin’s face without him having to call for one. That smile is always there, anyway, waiting for Jungkook to walk into the room or say something offhanded to Jimin. He’s not sure how good a smile it really is, because it’s not something he can control. It’s a smile for Jungkook, just as involuntary as breathing.

“Wow, hyung,” Jungkook says and shakes his head. “Where have you been?”

“Uh, out,” Jimin says, the sheepish grin on his face like a comfortable mask. Walking away from the love hotel, Jimin had been nervous whether he could keep pretending after a night like that. Funnily enough, it feels even easier now. That smile is more solid than ever.

“Right,” Jungkook says, snorting. “You’re a mess.”

“Yeah,” Jimin replies, feeling a painful twinge somewhere in his heart. He can’t face Jungkook, not anymore when it feels like he can see right through Jimin and everything filthy he has been doing, but then his cellphone beeps. Jimin doesn’t take it out of his pocket, just wraps his fingers around it, feels the light buzz of messages. He swallows and raises his eyes, a perfect smile on his lips. “I am.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you feel like talking more about this amazing, amazing pairing, which pretty much changed my whole life, or some other lovely crossover ideas, find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/mecchayabaii)!


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